Page 23 of In the Long Run

KNOX

Laughter greets me when I step out of the bathroom.

‘What?’ My eyes narrow.

‘Are you nervous?’ Eugene asks from where he’s perched on the couch learning how to knit.

Celeste sits opposite him on the coffee table, watching his hands. ‘Of course, he’s not nervous. He’s Knox Watson. Local celebrity. TikTok’s favourite stern croissant daddy.’

‘Don’t start.’ I point at her.

I’m pretty sure someone recognised me while I was at Coles this afternoon and got a picture of me in the produce aisle picking up the ingredients for Eugene’s famous eggplant parmigiana. I’m keeping that nugget of embarrassment to myself.

‘Got a lot of cheek, doesn’t he?’ Eugene says, without raising his gaze from the mangled mess of blue and white wool hanging from his needles. ‘Acting like we’re teasing him when he’s organised a babysitter for me.’

‘It’s okay, Eug. I’ll let you stay up past your bedtime,’ Celeste says. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ she asks me.

I inspect my dark-wash jeans and red-and-blue-checked button-down. A pair of tan RM Williams boots completes the unofficial casual uniform of all Army officers. ‘What’s wrong with this?’

‘You look so cookie cutter.’

She makes it sound like a bad thing but that’s exactly what I’m going for. What I’ve always gone for . I’m so used to wanting to be the guy everyone forgets that I don’t know how to be any other way.

‘Cut him some slack. Poor guy’s been out meeting with potential new suppliers for Alizée’s all day.’

I tried to get Eug to come with me, but he wanted to stay home.

Said he was going to keep researching his cookbook.

Now that the accounts are getting healthier, we can start adding a few of the old favourites back onto the menu.

If this continues … A dangerous and unfamiliar feeling flickers to life in my chest.

Hope.

‘I’m leaving now.’ I lift my black jacket off the back of a dining chair.

‘We won’t wait up! I’m going to crash on the couch tonight too, so don’t feel like you need to come home,’ Celeste teases.

I roll my eyes. ‘It’s dinner with Gen’s family.’

‘Dinner can only go for so long, Knox.’ Celeste smirks.

‘Just have fun,’ Eugene adds as I head down the hallway.

I pull open the front door to find Gen standing there, in a dress that clings to her body and short ankle boots with a spiky heel.

Her hair is wild, a riot of curly waves like she’s been out running in the wind, which is just how I like it.

Darker than normal lashes frame her eyes, and the bow of her top lip is even more pronounced when it’s covered in glossy lipstick.

Will tonight finally be the night I get to kiss her?

Meeting the parents is more stressful than I anticipated, despite Gen’s repeated assurances that it’s just a casual meal. Someone should probably tell Eva that, because her megawatt grin could power a city.

‘Tell us about yourself,’ Eva says as Gen’s dad, Tony, fills our wine glasses with a cabernet he promises will change our lives. They’re both warm and friendly, open with their affection for each other and for Gen.

‘There’s not much to tell.’ I sip my drink, noticing how close Gen is to me at this little corner table in the Clamshell’s dining room. Her thigh presses against mine. It’s nice. So fucking nice.

‘How long have you been in the Army?’ Tony asks. He used to be a principal and I can already tell he would’ve been a great one. Maybe if I’d had a teacher or authority figure like him when I was younger I wouldn’t have had so many problems at school after my parents left.

‘Since I was eighteen. I did Cadets for a bit in high school too.’

‘And you enjoy it?’

I shift in my seat because, truthfully, I tolerate it.

And I haven’t missed it while I’ve been here.

Not one bit. My boss has emailed to see if I’m interested in doing some work remotely, and I’m not looking forward to it.

There’s so much else I could be doing instead.

Working out with Gen. Running on my own, or with Madeleine and Chouquette or Croissants and Kilometres.

Reading with Eug. My life here is fuller than ever, and even though there are breaks in each day, the quietness that’s always bothered me in the past doesn’t seem so loud.

Eugene told me I looked content on Wednesday night.

I’d replied that I was tired after a hard gym session but, really, I’d just had a nice day.

My numbers of ‘nice days’ are increasing rapidly.

‘It’s good,’ I say finally.

‘One of my friend’s daughters is married to a woman in the Air Force. They’re living overseas at the moment. Seem to be a lot of different opportunities,’ Tony says.

‘Have you done that?’ Gen asks me.

I nod. ‘I did a stint in the UK as part of an exercise called LongLook.’ The allowances gave my bank account a nice boost, but I’d been lonely.

After the shitshow with my parents and everything that happened in high school, I’ve always struggled to make friends.

Yeti and Celeste are the only exceptions, but really, that’s because they wormed their way into my life and refused to leave.

And if my career adviser gets her way, I’ll be headed overseas again after my current posting.

That thought weighs like a heavy stone in my stomach.

I’ll be so far away from here, this place that’s starting to feel like home again.

‘Did you do lots of travel?’ Gen picks up her glass and I lose track of her question when a drop of wine slips from her lips and her tongue chases it.

Her parents are sitting across the table, dude.

‘Some.’

‘Got any upcoming trips?’ Tony asks. I bet he’s thinking Gen could do so much better than me, Mr Monosyllabic.

And because I want to do better for her, I throw caution to the wind and say the next bit, despite the fact that it breaks my golden rule about being careful with my words, with what I share with other people.

‘I might pick up another overseas job at the end of this posting cycle. It’s a sought-after posting. ’

Gen’s brow furrows, so I rush to add, ‘But that’s not for another year and a bit. I’d have to pass PAC and get promoted first.’

‘I don’t think I could’ve ever done it, been in the Army,’ Tony says. ‘Too much change all the time for me.’

‘There is a different kind of constancy to Army life,’ I say, trying to find a way to describe it properly and failing, because no one describes military life as stable.

The Hallidays all have the same quizzical expression on their faces: mouths pinched, eyes dark and confused.

I clear my throat. ‘There’s a lot of change, but I like the routine. Postings change, but the rules don’t. It’s why I like running, too.’

Eva brightens immediately. ‘Oh yes, I want to hear all about your run club fun! If we didn’t have a standing Sunday morning brunch, we’d join!’

Next to me, Gen chokes on a mouthful of wine. Instinctively, I reach for her, my palm settling against the back of her neck. ‘You okay?’ I murmur.

She coughs into her serviette before dabbing at her eyes. When she looks up, some of her mascara has smeared across the top of her cheekbones.

‘Oh, sweetie.’ Eva gestures to her face. ‘You’ve got a little something. Waterproof mascara is every woman’s best friend.’

Gen’s cheeks colour and she frowns down at her plate. She uses the corner of her serviette to try and clean herself up, but she misses it entirely.

‘Here,’ I say. ‘Hold still.’ I sweep my thumb across the crest of her cheekbone, collecting the black smear.

Her pupils dilate and I silently curse her parents’ presence.

I’m desperate to lean forward, to finally kiss her.

I’d make a mess of the glossy stuff that covers her lips, then reassure her that she’s gorgeous.

Like this and in all other ways. Tell her that her beauty and kindness always shine through.

That I don’t want to worry about the future all the time.

That when I’m with her, I just want to be present.

‘I’m so glad you’ve started running in a group, Gen,’ Eva continues. ‘You know I worry about your safety.’

Gen sighs and the moment between us evaporates. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’

‘That’s not what the news is saying.’

‘Well, I promise I’m being safe. I don’t run with headphones. I carry my phone and personal alarm.’

‘A woman was attacked at Pinnacle Park yesterday. Up the far, far end.’

I need to start paying more attention to the news. It’s been years since my name was splashed across it, and avoiding it is just silly. So far no one’s connected my old surname with my new one, and there’s no reason to believe anyone will.

‘I don’t run down there—’

‘But it’s not far from here.’

‘—on my own. The only time I go into Pinnacle Park is with Croissants and Kilometres.’

‘Do you run in the mornings, Knox?’ Tony asks, and Gen shoots her father a glare.

‘Sometimes,’ I reply. ‘Mornings are busy at the moment. My godfather had an accident a while ago that’s affected his mobility.’

‘I don’t need a bodyguard,’ Gen huffs before adding, ‘No offence. I like running on my own. It’s my time alone with my thoughts.’

‘None taken.’ That’s why I love running solo too.

‘Look who we have here,’ says a voice behind us and I stiffen.

Brand drops into the spare seat next to Gen.

He reaches across the table to shake Tony’s hand.

I already liked Tony, but the dead fish handshake he offers Brand confirms it.

‘I couldn’t leave without saying hello to my favourite people! ’

The heavy fog we’re expecting in the morning arrives early, descending on the table like a blanket. Even the tealight in the clamshell-shaped holder extinguishes under the weight of the awkwardness Brand’s presence has unleashed.

Gen’s hand lands on my thigh and the heat of her body presses through my jeans. She twists towards me and I link our hands together, setting them on the table.